


Queen of Love and Beauty

by cherubicwindigo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya Stark POV, F/M, First Kiss, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherubicwindigo/pseuds/cherubicwindigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Arya finished her 'dancing lessons' early and attended The Hand's Tourney?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen of Love and Beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irismoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irismoon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Queen of Love and Beauty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052822) by [irismoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irismoon/pseuds/irismoon). 



**ARYA**

The mountain's blade collided with the hound's block and parried thrust, sending his monstrous brother stumbling backwards. Both Cleganes _roared like beasts_ as they attacked each other, the ringing of their blades echoing across the courtyard. Arya held her breath as she beheld the magnificent display, praying that one brother would lose an arm and blood would go spraying everywhere! Then the fat king had to go and ruin everything!

"Stop this madness," Robert Baratheon bellowed, "in the name of your king!" Sandor Clegane took a knee at his liege's command, _nearly losing his head_ as his brother's blade swung just overhead! Ser Gregor, on the other hand, snarled and threw down his enormous broadsword to storm away and the king ordered the crowd to let him pass. That buffoon - he stopped a perfectly good fight _just_ when it was getting good! She sat back, glum and pouting when Loras Tyrell approached the hound and held up the towering man's arm in victory.

Sansa jumped to her feet - clapping and beaming like a silly fool - Arya merely crossed her arms and scowled. Then something interesting did happen! Ser Loras thrust the crown for the Queen of Love and Beauty into the hound's hands. The giant man stood dumbfounded as he stared at the roses, as if they might bite him, before his gaze locked onto her sister. She heard Sansa's gasp over the din of the crowd and Arya rolled her eyes in disgust. As if a stupid ring of blossoming plants should be anything worth wanting.

Bored again, she watched the hound's stare reluctantly slide from her sister to the royal seating area with growing alarm in his ugly face. Arya leaned forward to observe the queen's absence from her seat before returning her eyes to the hound - to see him staring _straight at her_! A slow horrible grin spread over his face as he started walking towards her. Sansa stood up straighter and caught the hound's attention, much to Arya's relief he turned toward her older sister. She must have been foolishly mistaken to think Clegane would actually ever dare...

He stood in front of her sister, holding the circle of flowers atop one large palm, however he did not offer it to her. They gawked at each other - he snorting heavy breaths from his nose and she blushing like a ninny - Arya launched her eyes heavenward with a groan. Brusquely cutting of his ogling of Sansa, the hound shifted one step to the side to grant Arya an evil twisted smirk! Sansa released a slight yelp of protest as the hound thrust the crown forward to her younger sister. Arya stared at the roses, horrified that hundreds of people were watching her dignity shredded - Joffrey's cackling rising over the cheers.

The hound tossed the floral wreath at her when she did not accept it, gave her sister one last lecherous stare and turned on his heel to stride away. Arya glared at the circlet of snowy buds until she felt burning behind her eyelids - devoid of a plan she grabbed the crown and sprinted away. Sansa and Septa Mordane shouted for her to come back yet she felt too humiliated to face them. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, behind tents and under the stands, anywhere dark and alone. 

Without warning, she slammed into something solid and warm, sending her sprawling on top of some stranger - in the dark! Arya scrambled backward, off of the man she barreled into, to sit on the ground and saw that he was no man at all - just an overlarge boy. He stared at her in horror with wide eyes so blue they shone in the dim light under the stands. She remembered the wreath still in her hand and glared down at it - the source of all her problems - and threw it away with a growl.

"Hey now!" The boy protested as he hopped to his feet and retrieved the crown as if it were precious, frowning at her as father did when disappointed. "Why'd you go and do that?"

"That is none of _your_ concern!" Arya cursed her skirts as she struggled to stand, glaring at the young man when he reached to help. "Give it back," she held her hand out to the blue-eyed youth and demanded the circlet.

"So you can crush it?" He glowered right back at her, holding the battered wreath up by his face. "You know how many girls would _die_ for this thing?"

"Most girls are stupid!" Arya lunged up to grab the crown but he simply held it higher out of her reach, annoyed she grumbled in frustration and crossed her arms.

"Most people are stupid," he shrugged and looked her over from head to toe, making Arya feel uncomfortable... and warm. "Fine," he relented with a nod, holding out the crown but yanking it back when she tried to take it. "I'll give it back: if you tell me why you threw it away." She let her arms dangle by her sides, tired and wanting this whole humiliating event to be finished.

"It was a jest - he gave it to me because I am ugly." Arya waved a hand in front of her face as evidence of her ugliness, ignoring the prickling in her eyes. "I _hate_ to let anyone make fun of me and he did it in front of everyone."

"I don't think yer ugly," he told her, "I think you are _very pretty_ , milady." Arya narrowed her eyes at the young man, unable to tell if he meant his words. He regarded the roses in his hands with an odd expression, holding it up to her again. "You were probably even prettier wearing this. Of course, I couldn't see well from where I was sitting." A slight redness flushed his cheeks as a smile tugged at his lips.

"You are teasing me," she accused, ready to snatch the roses out of his hands and run away as fast as she could. He might have longer legs but if she ran into the crowd, he could not chase her!

"Not at all," he grinned and rocked back on his heels with a cheery tilt of his head, "milady."

"Don't call me that," she groaned, wishing he would just give her the wreath already and be done with his teasing. _She could push him down and take it…_

"Then what should I call you?" His stupid grin made Arya want to slap his silly - attractive - face. She heaved an exaggerated huff and shrugged in defeat, angling her head to narrow her brows at the annoying young man.

"Call me Arya - and _give me_ the stupid crown." She held out her hand once more, expecting he would pass her what was rightfully hers. Instead, he carefully laid it upon her head, smoothing wisps of her wild hair that framed her face. The steadily growing warmth Arya felt changed into a searing heat in her cheeks and sent her heart thundering at his closeness.

"There," he smiled down at her, still standing far too close, "now you've been crowned by someone who finds ye pretty." He took a step back and Arya immediately regretted wishing he would give her space. "Will you promise not to do away with it?"

"Fine," she murmuring, not really knowing what she agreed to before abruptly blurting out, "but you have to give me a kiss."

" _What_?!" His face was a mask of shock and horror and Arya burst into laughter at his silly expression.

"A _kiss_ \- two people put their lips together for a moment." She explained through her scoffing, watching his eyes only widen with each word.

"I know what a kiss is!" He held his hands out, blundering and stuttering over his words. "I'm... I can't... you're a _highborn_ ," he explained desperately.

"So?" Arya squinted up at the tall boy and crossed her arms. "Then it _is_ a jape - and you don't think I am pretty?" His expression softened, staring at her for a lengthy awkward moment before nodding his head once and stepping close again.

"As you command, milady." He touched the sides of her face, fingers sliding along her jaw to splay over her ears, through her hair, and curl around her neck lightly. An expression of deliberate determination played across his features as he dipped his head gradually towards hers. Arya held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut when his soft lips pressed against hers. A jolt of lightning ran down her spine, along her limbs, reaching her fingertips. Her hands unconsciously seized his tunic as she rose onto her tiptoes and leaned into the kiss. 

She exhaled the confined breath against his lips as he wound an arm around her waist, drawing her nearer. He cupped his hand behind her head, tilting it back as he curled his large body over hers, keeping their unmoving lips firmly connected. Arya wound her arms around his neck, drawing his lip between her own and tasting him with the tip of her tongue. He groaned and imitated her, causing her to gasp when their tongues touched. She thanked the gods he was holding her so tightly because he knees felt as though they might give out at any moment.

"Arya! Where are you?!" Septa Mordane's voice pulled Arya and the young man - she still did not know his name - out of the hazy world they created. She wriggled free from his hold and he released her, taking several steps back, a look of dumbfounded awe covered his stupid handsome face. She chuckled and straightened the crown of flowers on her head.

"I have to go," she smiled at him, suddenly glad that everything happened exactly as it did. "What is your name?"

"Gendry," he wheezed, and seemed incapable of saying anything more.

"We'll meet again, Gendry." Arya swiftly marched toward Gendry to grab ahold of the front of his tunic, and yanked him down. "I'm sure of it." The unsure expression on his face turned into a cautious smile just before she stole another quick kiss and absconded away with a satisfied smile.

**GENDRY**

He watched her skip away, the white flowers glowing in the dark, after stealing a kiss from him. _After_ Master Mott gave him the afternoon to watch a bit of the tourney. _And_ gave him a few coins to buy himself a treat: of course, he saved it, but that's beside the point. Gendry was clearly _dreaming_ so he decided it best to get himself into bed before any more bloody unlikely events took place. His lips still tingled from the pretty highborn girl's kiss: even if all the rest was a dream, _he wouldn't ever forget her_... Lady Arya, the Queen of Love and Beauty. 

**Author's Note:**

> WOOT! First one shot! Those waiting for my Robbery update - it's not my fault: blame irismoon for writing such an inspiring and lovely fic. 
> 
> Inspired by:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/2052822
> 
> I needed a fluffy band-aid for my epic Gendrya fic. Gods... I might have to take more one shot breaks after... certain events that may or may not occur. I dunno if I can keep writing it straight through... its, um... spoilers.
> 
> Based on HBO's "Game of Thrones", episode 'The Wolf and the Lion'. - Original Series by George R. R. Martin.
> 
> Author's Note: I welcome constructive criticism, corrections, advice, and opinions. I live off kudos. I am reborn with every gushing comment. As the wisest man I've ever known said: "Put me over, kid."


End file.
